Lenore Skomal: Home movies offer visit from Dad

Lenore Skomal

March 20, 2014 09:39 AM

Lenore Skomal

March 20, 2014 09:39 AM

I spent a few days last week with my father. Granted, it was a bit of a one-sided experience because he happens to be dead, but rewarding nonetheless. For those of you who think I was dabbling in the afterlife, communicating with the other side, rest easy. Though I am not averse to such things, I find directly talking to my deceased loved ones is simpler than going through a psychic or involving myself in the nonsense of woo-woo ceremonies.

But I have to admit, when I was a kid, I loved all of that supernatural stuff. And throwing a scary seance was the height and hallmark of any reputable slumber party. The last seance I hosted was in the cedar closet of my old house, long after midnight on the eve of my 13th birthday. Seven of us sat cramped into a tight circle. The white, egg-shaped candle burned in the middle, in a tall Plexiglas holder -- borrowed from my inherently cool big sister, who led the mysterious ceremony with a babushka tied in a side knot and a gold loop dangling from her exposed ear.

As we clamped each other's sweaty palms, our knees crushing each other, we peered into her glowing face as she called forth Marie Antoinette. Why her, I don't recall. We vaguely knew her as the notorious, excessive consort of Louis the somethingth or other. But I suspect her beheading is what made her a glorious candidate for a ghostly visit.

As my sister cajoled the dead queen to show herself, she paused, closed her eyes and posed the breathy question. "If you're with us, give us a sign."

At that moment, the candle tipped off the candleholder and rolled onto the floor, spilling hot wax. Screams pierced the dead house as we raced to the safety of my parents' bedroom. Huge mistake. After a stern verbal upbraiding all around, we glumly retreated to our sleeping bags in the living room, left only with our whispers about the hair-raising ceremony. After that, I swore off seances for good.

No, last week's visit with my dad was made possible not by the paranormal but by technology: namely, converting old videotapes into DVDs. I'd purchased the video camera when my son was 18 months old, and the novelty of it at the time prompted me to record many unscripted, uneventful moments -- most of which I'd forgotten in the two decades that have passed.

Because I'd been behind the camera, my father looked at the camera, but really, directly at me. He wisecracked, waxed philosophical and laughed. And it felt like he was still here, and we were simply visiting.

Who knows? Maybe he still is.

LENORE SKOMAL writes every Thursday. If you enjoy this column, you can order her book with a collection of them at www.lenoreskomal.net.